In each timely move 
of the unforgiving clock, 
we live the most mundane 
and our wildest raving, 
entire new lives 
inside an ageing one. 
 
We create, 
we destroy, 
we arrange  
and rearrange. 
  
We dream 
on our own  
and live other's, 
flowing in a constant path 
of dreamt dreams, 
of hopes created, 
nurtured, 
destroyed, 
transformed. 
 
We are our own part, 
time and again, 
in the play of our lives, 
happy,  
sad, 
fortunate, 
and unfortunate, 
swinging in the arms of life. 
 
Sometimes preoccupied, 
other times cheerful, 
sometimes the hero, 
sometimes the villain, 
but always breading our own existence, 
the legitimate gradation 
that we maintain, 
and change. 
 
We are a dream, 
inside a dream. 
 
We are a sleeping God's dream. 
 
 

When I skim read it I thought it said
 
 "of the unforgiving cock, "

Just reading the title made me think of Mass Effect 2, and that part with the guys that go crazy. One of them says something about a dead god dreaming. Similar. Sort of.

" When I skim read it I thought it said   "of the unforgiving cock, " "

" Just reading the title made me think of Mass Effect 2, and that part with the guys that go crazy. One of them says something about a dead god dreaming. Similar. Sort of. "

" @Jeust:  Dig. Poetry Rebuttal:  watched freckles crawl up my armto whisper in my ear they didn't mean no harm.the sun was to blamefor the cancer, they claimed.provider of warm daysand melanoma all the same. "